The Untold Story
by Two Dollar x Song
Summary: The story of Hogwarts' most misunderstood house, Slytherin, the group of boys who exemplify the house, and the girls who they are heartsick over. Mostly canon characters.
1. Chapter 1

Abigail Macbeth was home schooled, according to the Macbeth family tradition, until she was fifteen years old. She was home schooled, just as her older sister, Kate, had been before her, and their younger sister, Madeline, would follow suite. Upon this point, their parents, and their grandparents were firm - no Macbeth left home before they were fifteen.

The Macbeth girls, each two years apart in age, were raised in their family name. They each were born with huge tufts of black hair that would one day become the flowing dark manes they were recognized for at Hogwarts. They each had their own identical room in The Macbeth House, a towering estate on the moors in rural Scotland, and each possessed an identical quick wit and unmistakable sense of superiority. For generations, their family had been in attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - a proud family of Ravenclaws. Bookish, smart, and devilishly hard to outwit, Macbeths had long adorned the portrait galleries of Hogwarts as Prefects and Head Girls and Boys. They were outstanding, the Macbeths were, in everything their attempted.

And so were Kate, Abigail, and Madeline raised. They were to be excellent, well refined women who could duel with the best of them and pull their weight in the classroom.

But not before they were fifteen.

It goes without saying that this forced home schooling was not exactly desired by the girls, who watched their friends leave at age eleven for school, and were forced to continue their education as witches in the privacy of their manor, with the family's ancient but remarkable tutors.

Thus, the Macbeth girls became reclusive, hard to read, and fiercely loyal to each other. They lost contact with their childhood friends, retreating into each other. The morning Kate left for Hogwarts to begin her fifth year, Abigal and Madeleine (aged 13 and 11 at the time) wept openly in Kings Cross. Kate, petrified of getting on the train, clung to her younger sisters while their parents tried to get the girls not to make a scene. Kate's first year at Hogwarts was rocky, both for her and her younger sisters, Abigal in particular. Kate was sorted into Ravenclaw, where she excelled academically, but not socially. Tear soaked letters regularly arrived for Abigail and Madeleine, instilling a deep fear of school in Abigal, who would be the next of the Macbeth girls to make the perilous journey to Hogwarts. She began to dread her fifteenth birthday, dread the school she had once dreamt of, even if it meant being with her sister again.

The summer before Kate would go back to Hogwarts for her final year and Abigail would begin her education there in her fifth year, Abigal found herself unable to leave the house at all, spending full, beautiful and sunny days inside and in bed. Her parents whispered, concerned about the scene she would make upon leaving in the fall. Staying home, for a Macbeth, was not an option. Abigail disappeared into herself more and more as autumn approached, losing the fire that burned in her from a young age. As Kate ran ahead of the family to greet her now fast friends at King's Cross, Abigail solemnly held Madeleine's hand as they approached the Hogwarts Express.

Abigail was a delicate fifteen year old. Her jet black hair was plaited neatly into a french braid that hung halfway down her back, and her pale skin (even more pale that it regularly would have been that September) exacerbated both the color of her hair, and the pale and piercing grey eyes that hid behind thick eyelashes. Her mother always told her she was "pretty" - a compliment that Abigail failed to acknowledge past the frequent exclamations over Kate's beauty. And Kate was really and truly beautiful - this was lost on no one, especially that September day at King's Cross, where Kate's black hair danced freely in the sunlight, and Abigail openly scowled.

Her trunk already aboard, Abigail turned and looked at her parents. Kate stood at the top step of the compartment, waiting for her sister. Madeline ran forward and hugged Abigail, terrified of another one of her older sisters leaving her. Elizabeth and Andrew Macbeth looked expectantly at their middle daughter, who's eyes were intensely searching them for a reason to stay. Andrew cleared his throat and stepped forward, grasping Abigail's shoulders in his broad hands and kissing her on the forehead. "You'll be fine" he whispered, stepping back. Abigail turned to her mother who nodded curtly. The whistle blew.

"Abby?" Kate called from the top step.

"Abby?" said Madeline, tears threatening.

"Abigail." Said Elizabeth, firmly.

Abigail turned around, and climbed onto the train.

The whistle blew again, and Abigail Macbeth, fifteen years old, said goodbye to everything she had known for her whole life.

Kate took Abigail's hand and lead her to a compartment full of seventh year Ravenclaw students. Excitedly, Abigail was introduced to an endless row of smiling seventeen year olds. She felt extremely out of place, even with her sisters fingers interlocked with hers. She felt young, stupid, and painfully homesick. Biting back tears, she forced a smile as she was seated in between her sister and a tall, tan, gorgeous blonde girl. "Carolina," the girl said, flashing a smile at Abigail and extending her hand. "Carolina Dawes."

"Hi," Abigail managed, immediately embarrassed by how shaky she sounded. All she wanted to was to fade into invisibility - a luxury that her sister and friends soon afforded her by gossiping loudly about all of the people they hadn't seen or talked to or hadn't wanted to see or talk to all summer. Glumly, Abigail glanced out the window, watching London fade into the distance, and the English countryside begin to whip past them. She caught snippets of conversation - stories of kisses and fights and dirty letters, and heaved a sigh. Next to her, Kate animatedly talked to the boy across from her. Abigail was resigned. She would live her life this way for the next two years: at her sister's side, invisible, and pretending not to exist. She would be fine with that, she reasoned to herself. There were worse things in the world than being Kate's accessory. This was easy. This was safe. Kate would be bubbly and loud and smart as she had always been and Abigail could be her side kick - her silent mini-me and companion. She would be sorted into Ravenclaw with her sister and would be happy to once again be at her side. She would -

"Abby?"

Abigail was snapped out of her silent reverie by her sister, whose large brown eyes were searching her, concerned. "Abby?"

"Yes?" Abigail answered.

"Oy, she's alive."

Abigail snapped her head up to see a tall, and tanned boy standing in the doorway of the compartment. His long brown girls hung over his forehead and eyelids lazily. He was exceedingly handsome, and staring straight at her.

"Abby," Kate said, "This is - "

"Terrence." The boy smiled, leaning it and extending his hand to Abigail. "Terence Higgs. And you're Katie's younger sister, huh?"

Kate rolled her eyes and shot Carolina a look across Abigail. "Terence, this is Abigail. Abby, this is the most obnoxious boy in my year."

Still holding onto Abigail's hand, Terence turned his attention to Kate. "Most handsome, Katie. Most charming, most fuckable, but certainly not the most obnoxious. Certainly that's reserved for -" her made a silent gesture towards Henry, seated opposite Kate.

Kate stared back at him, but spoke to her sister. "Abby, Terence is in Slytherin. You shouldn't have to worry about him."

'Higgs!" came a shout from another compartment.

Terence smiled, finally releasing Abigail's hand. "Coming, lads!" he yelled back. "Abby, I think you'll find me a perfect gentleman, should our paths cross."

"Higgs, you wanker!" came the same voice.

"And I would very, very much like for our paths to cross."

"Higgs!" The owner of the voice, a handsome boy with an incredibly striking jawline appeared.

"Very, very much." Terence concluded, turning to his friend. "Zabini. Have you met Katie's younger sister? Abby, this is Blaise. Blaise, this is Abby."

Blaise didn't move, but his dark green eyes flashed to her. "Abigail." She said quietly. "Only my sisters call me Abby."

"Did you hear that, Zabini? Only her sisters call her Abby. It's Abigail to you." Terence said, in faux-seriousness. Blaise nodded at her and looked at Terence expectantly. "Right, right. We're almost at Hogwarts, chaps. See you on the other side." with that, he saluted the compartment. "Oh and Carolina - Rooke'd love to give you his regards if you have a moment."

Blaise and Terence disappeared, the door sliding shut. Kate sighed heavily and took her sister's hand. "Sorry about him, Abbs."

Henry nodded in agreement. "They're harmless, really, those boys. A lot of talk and not much action. We ignore them, mostly. They're not all bad," he said, glancing at Carolina quickly. "Especially Rooke - you didn't meet him but he's always with those boys - alright lad, really - he's - "

He was cut off by an icy stare from Carolina and the compartment went silent.

From the window, Abby saw the silhouette of Hogwarts appear.


	2. Chapter 2

Abby Macbeth fell backwards onto her bed, staring wide eyed at the ceiling. The dormitory was completely silent. Empty. The rest of the girls she would be living with were in the great hall, still enjoying dinner. Kate, Abby expected, was also there with Carolina and Henry, laughing and eating and maybe wondering where she was.

Abby looked up at the giant green velvet shades that surrounded her bed and began to cry.

The arrival at Hogwarts was a flurry of hugging and cheering and Abby's sense of impending doom. At the station, Abby had been met by Professor Flitwick - responsible for meeting new students who weren't first years and taking them to school. Abby would be spared the mortifying (in her opinion) experience of being sorted in front of the whole school, as an incoming fifth year, rather than a first year. In a dark, grand classroom, Abby was seated, alone with Professor Flitwick and the sorting hat. "Just a moment, dear, then you can take your things to your new room and join your sister at supper," he mumbled, flitting around the classroom as Abby sat, petrified. Ravenclaw, she told herself, firmly. Obviously.

The hat was placed upon her head.

"Another Macbeth, eh?" Whispered the voice. Abby sat still. "Another fifteen year old Macbeth come to finally face her fate at Hogwarts. Your sister has done marvelous things for Ravenclaw." She closed her eyes._ Here comes, she thought. Let's just get it over with, place me in Ravenclaw_. "Get it over with, my dear? Ravenclaw is a spectacular house. Do you want to be placed in Ravenclaw?" Abby thought for a moment. _Yes, she concluded. Yes, it's where my parents would want me, it's where I can be with my sister._ "Your parents don't get to decide this for you." _Where else would I be put?_ "Slytherin."_ What?_ "SLYTHERIN" the sorting hat announced loudly.

Flitwick jumped up. "Excellent!"

Abby looked up, shell shocked. "Slytherin?"

"Slytherin it is!" said Flitwick, removing the sorting hat from her head. Abby and her things were then carted to the Slytherin Common Room and to the fifth year girls' dormitory, where she was left alone with 7 empty beds and a stomach full of anxiety.

Lying in her new bed and crying, Abby wondered what Kate would think when she arrived back at the Ravenclaw Common Room and didn't find her sister there. She thought, feebly, of writing her sister or parents a letter, but couldn't find the strength to tell them where she had been placed. She rolled over, smushing her face into her pillow and waiting to wake up from the horrible nightmare she seemed to be having, when she suddenly heard a great deal of activity coming from the hall.

"Daphne," said a delicate voice urgently. "Daphne, just talk to me."

The door opened, then slammed shut. Abby sat up, shocked, to see an beautiful girl with dark, curly hair, standing with her back against the door. From the hallway, the pleading girl continued to call her name. Daphne was staring at Abby. The stayed that way, silent but for the girl in the hallway's imploring cries for a moment. "Who are you?" Daphne asked, matter-of-factly.

Stumbling over her words, "Abby - Abigail Macbeth. I'm new - I guess I just - "

"Macbeth? Are you Kate's sister?" Daphne stepped away from the door and towards Abby's bed.

"Yeah. How...how do you know Kate?"

"She's friends with Carolina. I used to see a lot of Carolina."

Abby didn't know what to say. "I…."

"Can I call you Abby, Abby?"

"Um, I guess, I mean really my sisters only call me Abby but - "

"Fantastic." Daphne sat down next to Abby on her bed. "Abby. I'm Daphne Greengrass. That -" she nodded towards the door, "Is Pansy. You'll meet Tracey and Zoe soon. They're still at dinner with the boys."

The door to the dormitory opened, and Pansy stood fuming in the doorway. "Daphne Greengrass at least let me apologize - " She abruptly stopped, seeing Abby. "Who the hell are you? Can't you see I'm trying to have a private conversation with Daphne?"

Daphne sighed, kicking off her black high heels. "Pansy, this is Abby. She's joining this motley crew."

Pansy considered Abby for a moment, then shifted her attention back to Daphne. "Daph, I swear, you know I'm with Draco, I wasn't interested in Adrian, not really, it was just a summer fling, just one night, I didn't think you'd find out!"

"Glad to hear you're apologizing because you didn't think I'd find out." Daphne deadpanned. "Adrian Pucey is a Grade-A moron, Pansy. I hate it say it, but you're better off with Draco." She looked over at Abby. "This is one hell of an introduction for you. You want to go meet the boys? I expect they're going to have a cigarette by the lake if you'd care to go for a walk." She crossed to the room to her bed and trunk, where she dug out a pair of boots and started putting them on.

"Daph, are we not going to talk about this?" Pansy said, exasperated.

"Not really, _Pans_. So you had a fling with Adrian. Oh well. It's not like Adrian and I are married. I'm not even sixteen for another three months. I'm young. Let's live," she concluded sarcastically. "Anyway, Pans, you've been a fairly hopeless friend since day one, so I didn't expect any better."

Pansy made a small noise of anger and stormed out of the room. Daphne looked to Abby. "The boys. You need to meet the boys. Zoe and Tracey are great and all but really, the boys are bunches more fun that anyone you'll meet in this dormitory. Put on your shoes."

Abby did as she was told, happy to be taken in by someone - anyone. She pulled on her shoes and cardigan and waited for Daphne to take the lead. As they walked out of the Slytherin Common Room, Daphne sighed. "Another year, same stuff," she mumbled under her breathe. "Alright, tell me about yourself, Abby."

Taken aback, Abby paused. "Um. I'm fifteen -"

"When's your birthday?"

"December."

"Excellent. Don't you think sixteen is going to be spectacular? I feel like everything will be better. It feels like a real age." Daphne's boots clicked on the stone floors. Abby found herself slightly intoxicated with her new friend. "Anyway," she said, leading Abby to continue.

"Um, I have two sisters - "

"Right. Kate. Kate. Kate's cool. Higgs has always tried to...well, you know. Higgs is a wanker. And I mean after the Carolina thing…"

Abby mustered some courage. "What Carolina thing?"

Daphne smiled. "Right. Of course you don't know. So...has your sister told you about Higgs' weird little fanclub?"

"I'd never even heard of...Higgs...until I met him today."

"You met Higgs on the train? Oh excellent. Good way to begin. He's a wanker." Daphne laughed. "Alright, so. Terence Higgs is a seventh year, and as a seventh year wanker, he's adopted a few of the boys in our year in an attempt to...how does he put it…'educate' them in the ways of the world. This started last year. Essentially he just taught them to smoke cigarettes and gave them a few books and records and had them all adopting this charming asshole melancholy mentality that they're all so bloody proud of now." Daphne pushed open the huge, main door of the great hall of Hogwarts. In front of them were the vast grounds of Hogwarts. The sun was setting. For a moment, it took Abby's breath away. "Anyway, so these boys...they're a great load of fun, really, if you don't take them so seriously. There's Adrian Pucey, who you heard me refer to earlier. He and I...that's a story for another day." She laughed again, their boots crunching the grass under their feet as they approached the lake. "Marcus Flint, who you'll see plays quidditch obnixiously well. Then there is Blaise Zabini. And Rorke Rooke who - "

"Daphne!"

The girls whipped around to see a dark figure approaching them. As he got closer, Abby could make out that he was wearing dark brown slacks and a grey blazer. He looked far too overdressed for a September evening walking around the lake. He was interesting looking, handsome in an unconventional, bookish way. His thick rimmed glasses reflected the dwindling rays of the sun. His dark brown hair was tousled in messy waves on the top of his head. "I could have sworn that was you, Daph. Hullo. Who's this?"

"Speak of the devil. Rooke, this is Abby. She's new."

Rooke put the dark leather bound book in his hand in his blazer pocket. "Charmed. Daphne are you taking her to see the lads?" She nodded in response. "Oi...Abby, I apologize in advance."

The three of them walked towards an old, crooked tree at the shore of the lake, where Abby could make out the silhouettes of several other boys, and smell the bitter scent of cigarettes. When they were close enough, the boys turned around and cheered for their arrival. Abby instantly recognized Blaise and Terence from the train. Two other boys - Marcus and Adrian, she presumed, leaned lazily against the tree, offering mild hellos. Terence, seated one one of the lower branches of the tree, hopped off, offering a grandiose bow for the girls and cigarettes. Rooke and Daphne both took one, Abby politely shook her head.

"She's pure. I like it." Higgs winked.

"Lay off," Daphne said threateningly, through a smile.

The boys were charming and laughably goofy, making jokes at each other's expense, throwing arms around each other and flirting shamelessly with Daphne. Abby smiled in spite of herself, almost not minding when Higgs, in a show of strength and brazen attitude, picked her up and twirled her around. Pressed against him, being twirled around in the early autumn air, Abby realized this was the first time she'd ever been close to a boy like this, ever been flirted with or acknowledged for her body and her femininity. She found herself rolling with laughter when he put her down, full laughs that shook her whole body and made her tear up. Daphne linked arms with her on their walk back to the castle, leaving the boys behind. Maybe, Abby thought, maybe this will be alright.

Behind them, the boys watched them disappear into the darkness. Blaise, perched on a tree branch, took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "Well, boys...the rat race begins."

Rorke glanced up to Blaise. "Blaise." He warned. "It's the first night of school."

Blaise laughed. "Higgs has made his intentions clear -"

"If you can't have the older sister, why not downsize?"

"What's it going to be this year, lads?" Blaise asked, jumping down from the tree and readjusting his blazer. "Booze, books or birds?"

Higgs threw an arm around his shoulder. "To all three."

"Oh, captain, my captain...wouldn't have it any other way."


	3. Chapter 3

Blaise Zabini was his mother's only child, a product of her second marriage. Blaise's mother was never particularly interested in being a mother. A child of great wealth, Blaise spent his early childhood with nannies, sometimes not seeing his own mother for weeks at a time as she went to the Italian countryside with her newest beau, or recovered from her most recent breakup in the privacy of a darkened room that Blaise wasn't allowed near. Around the time he turned eight years old, his mother's guilt overcame her desire for freedom and she began to introduce Blaise to the men in her life, holding him around the shoulders in an attempt at maternal affection, and carting him to their houses. Blaise frequently could not distinguish between them, but nodded each time his mother had him do up the back of another white dress. "This time, Blaise." He would look her in the eyes in her reflection in the mirror. "I can feel it this time, can't you, Blaise?"

Blaise Zabini, now, was 16 years old, a tad older than the rest of the boys in his year. Perhaps it would be easy to credit Blaise's lackadaisical attitude to relationships to the lackluster examples of his youth. His mother could easily be blamed for his smoking habit, his drinking habit, his lying habit, and his relationships with girls. Blaise, in fact, never blamed his mother for any of it. He was who he was, the boy who listened to samba and read the autobiography of Casonova and took it too seriously. Blaise was unapologetically Blaise.

When, at the beginning of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Blaise became friends with Terence Higgs, he found an outlet and a community for his general apathetic demeanor. They did nothing, these boys, in reality. They kissed girls and read books and smoked cigarettes, but nothing mattered - at least, nothing that they'd let on.

Blaise reckoned that his best mate, should he really have to choose, was Rorke Rooke. Higgs was a laugh and all, but he was a bit of a dirty bastard. Adrian never really talked about anything and Marcus was too obsessed with Quidditch to be truly compelling. No, of all of them, Blaise reckoned, Rorke was by far the best and most interesting. The one true (and it was very true) drawback to Rorke Rooke's character, as far as Blaise was concerned, was his frequent disapproval of Blaise's extracurricular activities. And so what, Blaise would reason. So what if he had kissed Tracey and Zoe and Daphne on different occasions? He knew they had and would fight about it, not out of affection for him, but out of the catty territorialism he loved to inspire in girls his age. He didn't give a single _shite_, as he would say, about their romantic feelings because he didn't have any. Why should their romantic feelings concern him?

Rorke Rooke, on the other hand, was raised by Susette and Clarence Rooke - conservative wizard parents who taught him to read latin when he was a child. Rorke Rooke grew up in a modest house with his parents near Shoreditch, in London. He was taught the value of money, the value of education, and the value of personal relationships. This is not to say Rorke Rooke was a perfect and at all times respectful sixteen year old boy - if he was, he would never spend any time with Blaise Zabini. But Rorke Rooke, even when he smoked cigarettes with the other boys, had a hard time taking everything they said completely seriously. He had spent summers working in his father's book store. He preferred Allen Ginsberg to any writings by Casonova, and most importantly, Rorke Rooke had been in love. Still was in love, many would wager and he would deny.

That was the biggest difference between Blaise Zabini and Rorke Rooke, really, when it came down to it. Blaise talked a big talk about big ideas and womanizing and understanding all of life, and Rorke had actually felt the things he had read about in Pablo Neruda poems.

Nonetheless, were you to ask him, Rorke would probably reply that, yes, Blaise Zabini was also his best mate - because Adrian didn't know what iambic pentameter was, Marcus once flirted with Carolina Dawes too much a Christmas Party, and Higgs was...Higgs.

It was this very friendship that found, on a Sunday night one week into their fifth year, Blaise and Rorke sitting in opposite armchairs in front of the fire in Slytherin Common Room, without speaking to each other. While Rorke was frequently happy with silence, Blaise struggled without the winter banter and chastising comments with just about everyone but his best mate. They sat in silence for a long while, Rorke thumbing through a novel and Blaise at first staring silently into the fire, playing with a zippo lighter with his thumb and pointer finger, his gaze steadily migrating to Daphne Greengrass and Abigail Macbeth, who sat in the corner across the common room from the boys.

Eventually, Blaise broke. "Abby Macbeth, then," he muttered.

Rorke looked up, eyebrows raised. 'What?"

"She seems right up your alley."

Rorke sighed, closing the book. "What?" he repeated.

"She's...quiet. Kind of weird. She probably likes to read."

"Blaise, as much as I appreciate your constant and always unnecessary interest in finding birds who are 'right up my alley' I'm just fine at the moment." Rooke paused, turning to look at Daphne and Abby, who were absorbed in their own conversation. "Besides, you've already kissed Tracey and Zoe and Daphne, I'm surprised you aren't over there already."

"No I mean it, mate," Blaise protested. "You haven't even so much looked a girl all summer and I could...let this one slide for you."

"As if Blaise Zabini could get any girl he wanted. Any girl in the world. Or at least in the Slytherin common room."

Blaise raised his eyebrow. "As if there's any sincere doubt."

This prompted another hefty sigh from Rooke. "Blaise, I'm not challenging you."

Blaise stood up. "Rooke," He started, crossing over to his best friend's chair, placing his hands on the armrests and leaning in. "If you are going to sit here in the common room reading poetry and waiting for Carolina Dawes to appear out of thin air then I'm going to take you up on this little challenge," Rorke glowered, "Before Higgs beats me to it."

With that, Blaise walked away from his friend and approached the girls.

Rorke, who skipped dinner saying he wasn't feeling well, went the dormitory and wrote three drafts of a letter without sending any of them, and fell asleep with his glasses still on.

My dear readers - I would very much appreciate it if you would review :)


	4. Chapter 4

_Macbeth,_

_The lads and I have aquired a pint or two of Firewhiskey and would like to cordially invite you to celebrate the end of the fist treacherous month of school with the best blokes of Slytherin. _

_-Zabini. _

The end of September brought with it cloudy days, long hours in the library, and Abby's first invitation to spend time with the "fast boys" of Slytherin, and Firewhiskey. The note was flicked to her in the middle of a potions class, in which Adrian was asleep and Abby was sweating her eyeliner off over a hot cauldron. She glanced at it, in passing, before Daphne snatched it off their shared workstation, read it, and slowly turned to look at Blaise and Rorke. Rorke was, much like Abby, bent over his cauldron in concentration. Blaise looked back at her and winked.

Daphne turned to Abby. "Did you see this?"

Not looking up, "Yes."

"And are you going to attend?"

"Are you?"

Daphne shrugged, brushing her bangs out of her face. "Probably. I usually do." In response, Abby was silent.

Abby had, in reality, never been invited to any party that wasn't family related, let alone one with boys and booze. She stood over her cauldron quaking, afraid to face Daphne or look her in the eyes to expose her utter fear at such a simple situation. Abby reached down and grabbed a handful of chestnut root, crushing it in her palm into the cauldron, allowing the steam to soak into her skin. She stared into the golden green mixture. Maybe, she reasoned to herself, this wouldn't be such a big deal. So what if there's alcohol. Who said she had to drink it, in the first place?

She shook her head in spite of herself. She could already see Terence Higgs' laughing smile. She wouldn't, she couldn't, be labeled as pure and innocent. Not with these boys. Not now. And why was the note written from Blaise, anyhow, a boy who, thus far, had paid her not attention besides a few cursory and faux flirtatious words in the common room? Abby reasoned that Higgs, who went out of his way to touch the small of her back when he opened doors for her, or Rorke, who had lent her a book last week, would have made sense. Blaise? Not so much. So much was Abby tortured by this simple invitation that she hardly noticed when class had ended, anxiously scooping her things into her bag and dashing out the door behind Daphne. "Macbeth - "

Abby and Daphne both whipped around just in time to see Blaise Zabini duck out the classroom door after them. "Macbeth. Excellent. Did you get my note or did Daphne intercept before you had a chance to take a look at it?"

"I…I saw it. I got it, I mean. I read it." Abby managed, already regretting what was coming out of her mouth.

Rorke appeared, stopping to watch the interaction in front of him. He looked at Daphne and raised his eyebrows. She sighed, exasperated. "Blaise," She started.

"Now, now, Daph, how are we ever going to get to know Macbeth here if you do all the talking for her?"

Nervous, Abby glanced between Daphne and Blaise.

"Fine. Abby, I'll see you at lunch. Rooke?" Daphne slung her bag over her shoulder, and nodded to Rooke, who followed her away.

And then Abby was alone with Blaise Zabini. For a moment, there was nothing - only the sound of Daphne's boot heels clicking away on the stone floors and her fading conversation with Rooke. Then, silence. Then - "Fancy a walk?"

"What?"

Blaise flashed a brilliant smile. "It's beautiful out. Fancy a walk around the lake before class this afternoon?"

"Alright."

Abby couldn't put her finger on what about Blaise made her so much more nervous than any of the other boys. He was silent, cool, not obvious in the same ways that Higgs was, and not as understandably smart as Rorke was, and not as blunt as Marcus or Adrian. Blaise had a mysterious demeanor about him, which puzzled Abby more with every interaction the two of them had. As the two of them walked into the late September sunshine, Blaise took off his blazer and slung it over his shoulder. His shirt sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, Abby couldn't help but notice how strong his forearms looked, how broad his shoulders were. Embarrassed, she looked away.

"What do you think of it here, Macbeth?"

Abby looked at the grass. "I like it. I like it more than I suppose I thought I would."

"It's a bore after four years. Same blokes and birds you've been around for years. You're lucky to be here now rather than at first year. Awfully boring to see the same people year after year."

Abby snorted back a laugh. "Seems lovely to me."

"How d'you mean?"

"It's sort of lovely, isn't it?" She looked up for the first time in the conversation. She smiled, her teeth peeping out. "I love to hear Daphne speak about you boys when you were eleven. It's the sort of history you can't fabricate. It's real. You've seen each other grow up. Don't you think there's something sort of spectacular about that?" Abby shrugged, looked away from Blaise and out to the lake, which sparkled in the afternoon sun. "The only people I know like that are my sisters, and they're family, I'm supposed to. I couldn't tell you a thing about anyone else - not something funny they did in first year, or who their first kiss was." They came to the same tree where Abby had met the boys on her first night at Hogwarts and she turned, leaning her back against the tree. She had no idea where all this confidence in this conversation was coming from, but she chanced a look at the boy in front of her. Their eyes met, and she stared back. Blaise, for a moment, was taken aback. "Isn't it lovely to know people that way?"

"And who was your first kiss, Macbeth?"

Abby laughed. "And why do you keep calling me by my surname anyhow, Zabini?"

"It makes you sound like one of the lads," Blaise ran his fingers through his hair, taking a step closer to her. "Abby is too girly for you, anyhow. Macbeth suits you. And you didn't answer my question."

"About who my first kiss was?" Abby hoped to god she wasn't blushing as he took another step towards her. They were dangerously close now - too close for Abby, a boy novice, to be comfortable with. For a moment, she contemplated how to escape, before noticing how much she liked being this close to Blaise. He was handsome. He smelled like wood and cloves. He smelled good in a way Abby couldn't pin down. He smelled like handsome boys should. "Is that any of your business?"

He grinned. "Call it a morbid curiosity." Blaise leaned in closer, resting his arm above her head on the tree.

"And what will you do with the information?" Abby whispered into the remaining air between them. She wasn't sure why she wanted him to kiss her, all of a sudden. She barely knew this boy standing in front of her, but all she wanted was to grab him by the shirt colors and hand him towards her. She wanted that kiss, desperately, and she wanted it before he discovered that this was it - this would be it - her first ever kiss, that is. "What are you going to do - track the boy down and kill him?"

"Congratulate him."

And there, in the September sun, against the tree next to the lake, Abby Macbeth was kissed by Blaise Zabini, for the very first time.


	5. Chapter 5

The first time Blaise Zabini kissed Tracey Davis, they were twelve. They were at their Tacey's parents' annual Christmas party and had been sneaking drinks out of the spiked punch bowl. They did it, for the most part, daring each other, assuming the other wouldn't. It was both of their first kisses. Neither of them took it particularly seriously.

The first time Blaise Zabini kissed Zoe Miller was on his fifteenth birthday, drunk on Firewhiskey and pressing her up against the stairway to the girl's dormitory, begging her for more. Her breath hot on his neck, she pushed him away. Blaise became sullen and cruel to her for weeks for turning him down. She had cried into Tracey's shoulder at the next party the boys threw.

The first time Blaise Zabini kissed Daphne Greengrass was the summer after their third year at Hogwarts, fresh with the concept that, at halfway to fourteen, they were real teenagers with real passions and feelings. It had been a weekend at Daphne's where everyone got into a lot of mischief and Blaise and Daphne were the only two left awake at three in the morning. Blaise had gotten to loudly philosophically exclaiming that the day he stopped listening to samba and eating dark chocolate and talking to pretty girls like Daphne at the three in the morning was the day he quit this sorry earth - and she had kissed him. Three days and hundreds of kisses later, she admitted to him she had feelings for Adrian, and Blaise let it go.

These are not the only three girls Blaise Zabini kissed in his sixteen years, and these were not the only times he had kissed any of them, but these were the stories Abby was told while Daphne zipped up her dark blue summer dress as the girls got ready to go to the boy's party.

"When it comes down to it, love, his kisses don't mean much." Zoe noted bitterly, tousling her hair in the mirror.

Tracey turned and looked at her. "Not that he doesn't like you - I'm sure he does. He's just…Blaise."

From behind her, Daphne put her hands on her shoulders and made eye contact with her in the mirror. "Just don't expect…a lot from him, you know?"

Abby wasn't in love with Blaise. That should be made perfectly clear. Abby wanted to kiss Blaise again, but that desire could easily be translated into wanting to kiss any boy again. Kissing was like a drug to her, now, after fifteen minutes of introduction two days earlier. She and Blaise had seen each other plenty since the kissing incident. He remained perfectly friendly, perfectly charming and perfectly flirtatious as always over morning tea and walks from Potions to Divination. Abby had seen no change in him, so she had a hard time believing what they were telling her. Nonetheless, she was inclined to believe them, and had been trying her hardest not to take the kiss to heart.

The boys held their parties in the Room of Requirement - a clever trick that allowed them all the noise and none of the getting caught that came with being in the common room. Not that they never got caught - they did, and frequently, but Terence and Blaise knew how to talk them out of almost anything (and if they didn't, Filch usually didn't mind a bribe from Draco Malfoy). They took these parties as an excuse to dress up - the boys in ties and blazers and the girls in whatever fancy dress their mother had recently sent to them. They were the kind of parties that fifteen and sixteen and seventeen year olds liked to throw, where they sipped fire whiskey and acted far drunker than they ever actually got, using the faux alcohol induced haze to excuse their inappropriate behavior.

Across the Slytherin Common Room from the girls, the boys were preparing themselves in their dormitory room. Terence Higgs stretched himself across Blaise Zabini's bed, picking his teeth with a toothpick and ignoring the wrinkles already forming on the back of his blazer. Blaise was choosing which pair of Italian shoes to wear, Adrian was tightening his tie, Marcus was putting on too much cologne, Draco Malfoy was nowhere in sight, and Rorke was reading.

Terence let out a hefty sigh. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath. "Unbelievable. The protoge betrays his teacher. Where's your loyalty now, lads?"

"Shut it, mate. You lost out - it's your fault," Marcus grunted.

Higgs sat up. "My fault? My fault?" He twisted his face into an expression of faux seriousness and pain. "I taught you lot everything you know! Blaise'd never get a single bird to get all breathy and panty if it weren't for me and here he goes and kisses Macbeth before I have a chance to -"

Blaise looked up from tying his shoe, grinning. "Oh captain, my captain - " he said sarcastically.

"Enough of this captain bullshit," Rorke groaned from behind his book.

"Oi, and what are you reading tonight? How to never recover from a slutty Ravenclaw's heartbreak?"

Rorke lowered the book and stared at Higgs. For a moment, the room went silent. All of the boys had been taking their jabs at Rooke over his sullen silence this far into their fifth year. They had joked about him being lovesick, made fun of him for his and Carolina's awkward interactions, never let him live down the handwritten notebook of Shakespeare sonnets they had found last year. But none of them - not even Higgs up until this point - had ever said anything like that about Carolina Dawes. Never once had they mocked her or shunned her or, worst of all, talked about her sexuality and sexual practices. Rorke, usually a boy of quiet reasoning, was known for his flighty and unexpected temper, and in that moment of silence, all of the boys, Blaise especially, were waiting for him to completely fly off the handle. Finally, and evenly, he said "You great git, I reckon Abby Macbeth would even kiss me before you."

Marcus and Adrian roared with laughter as Higgs looked around, dumbfounded. "No respect! From my own lads! It's remarkable."

Rorke retreated back behind his book, not at all able to concentrate on the words. Underneath his measured response, he was seething. Still, this was a night with his lads. He gritted his teeth and tried his hardest to forget what Higgs had said about Carolina. He tried his hardest not to think about Carolina.

"Oi," Blaise said, straightening his blazer on his shoulders. "Shall we?"

The Room of Requirement looked beautiful upon the boy's calculated arrival. The room was cozy, but spacious. A record player spun the Gnarly Hobbits' most recent record, and there was a fire in the grand fireplace in the corner. "Excellent," Higgs said under his breath, while pulling three bottles of fire whiskey out of his inner jacket pockets.

The evening started out exactly as the boys planned. The girls arrived in a flurry of excitement, each looking more stunning than the last in their summer dresses. They toasted fire whiskey and Abby nervously sipped the glass she was given by Terence, trying to mask her distaste and shudder with a fake sneezing fit that prompted the boys to roar with laughter and egg her on. Pansy Parkinson hid behind Draco Malfoy, sending threatening glances at Daphne every once and a while. Daphne, totally unaware, pulled Marcus into the middle of the room by his tie, trying to teach him how to salsa dance. There was laughter, there was drinking. Abby perched herself on a windowsill, clutching her fire whiskey in her hand and pretending to take sips of it. An overwhelming sense of belonging burned in her, and she was mortified to feel tears welling up in her eyes. "Abby?" Rorke leaned against the wall next to the windowsill. He looked at her, concerned. "Everything alright?"

She laughed, reaching up to wipe the tears without disturbing the eyeliner Daphne had put on her. "I'm fine. It's stupid… I'm…I reckon I'm happy."

Rorke cracked a smile. "You're something else, Abby Macbeth."

"What do you mean?" Abby put her face to her glass, letting the whiskey brush up against her lips, enjoying the tingle.

"I love these girls," Rorke replied, looking at Marcus tripping over his feet and Daphne bursting into raucous laughter. Looking at Tracey having a serious conversation with Blaise in the corner. Looking at Zoe fiddling with the music. "But if you think any of them would ever tear up with happiness at the sight of one of these parties, you're mental." They were silent a moment. "Do you fancy a dance?" Rorke extended his hand and Abby gladly took it, hopping down from the windowsill and following him into the center of the room. Blaise had swooped in and taken control of the music, putting on some samba song no one but him knew. He hopped around gleefully, singing Portugese and dancing by himself. Abby, leaning against Rorke's chest, grinned at everything around her and tried not to step on her dancing partner's toes. It was a perfect moment, she thought to herself.

Then, the party was forever changed by three events.

First, Terence Higgs popped open a forgotten bottle of champagne, causing a raucous cheer. Second, an owl hooted and tapped on the window with a letter for Blaise Zabini. And third, Kate Macbeth and Carolina Dawes entered the room.

The atmosphere changed slowly and quietly at first. Laughing on his way to the window to retrieve the owl, Blaise caught sight of Carolina and Kate in the corner of his eye. He paused, glancing to Rorke who was twirling Abby around on the dance floor, and continued warily, not taking his eyes of his best mate as he untied the letter from the owl's leg. Then, Kate ran to her sister happily, tearing here away from Rorke and into her arms. "My little sister! My adorable little sister!" she cheered gleefully, pulling her to the punch bowl that Terence was filling with champagne until there was almost no "punch" left. Rorke smiled as he watched Kate and Abby, looking up just in time to see Carolina standing in front of him.

Blaise, by the window, clutched the letter in his hand and was about to dash to his best mate's rescue when he saw his own name scrawled on the parchment.

Higgs, only paying attention to the two Macbeth sisters who were now at this side began his usual party bravado, pouring glasses and making crude jokes just charming enough to make the girls giggle. The Macbeth sisters, side by side, were an incredible sight. At the ages of seventeen and fifteen, they were near twins, dark hair spilling in curls down their backs of their corresponding navy blue and pearly white summer gowns. They laughed symmetrically and talked at the same time and finished each other's sentences. Higgs, who had long been a fan of the Macbeth genes, was overwhelmed.

Across the room, Rorke managed one word: "Hello." as Blaise unfolded the letter.

"Hello, Rorke." Caroline smiled thinnly.

_My darling Blaise,_

_My darling, I hope your fifth year is treating you stunningly so far. Having not heard from you in over a month I thought I would drop a line - would it hurt you to write your mother every now and then? _

"How are you?" Rorke said, choking on his words.

"Would you dance with me?"

_Blaise, my love, it's beautiful here in Italy. Do promise you'll come visit for Christmas and not just stay at school this year? Rudolpho would love to have you. He can teach you archery!_

Slowly, Rorke approached Carolina and took her waist in his hand. His mouth set in a firm grimace, they swayed back and forth. She looked up at him, her golden hair brushing his arm and she pulled herself closer to him.

_Darling, I'm afraid I don't write to you entirely out of pleasantries. I received a troubling letter a few days ago from old friends. _

"I miss you," Carolina whispered into Rorke's lapels.

Abby, feeling the effects of very little alcohol, leaned dangerously close to Terence.

_Blaise, I know you never really knew him, but you should know. Your father died, Blaise. _

"I miss you too."

And the music played on.


	6. Chapter 6

Early fall air hit Blaise's face, hard. He sprinted away from the castle as fast as his legs would carry him. The night air was totally silent, the August crickets having died off in the recent chill. The grounds were eerily quiet, save the sounds of life coming from the cheerily glowing rooms in the castle. Blaise collapsed into the grass, his smokers lungs burning. He tried to catch is breath desperately, feeling the dew in the grass soaking into his trousers and tickling the sides of his face. He soon fell into a coughing fit, sitting up, his whole body shaking as it tried to catch up with his recent burst of exercise. Blaise desperately wanted to stop thinking, wanted to focus on his heart beat and his lungs and the cough rattling through him.

Why?

He lowered himself back down to the earth, realizing the parchment was still clutched tightly in his fist.

Why? Why did he care? Why was he feeling so torn up about the death of a man he barely knew? Why, he even had a hard time admitting to himself, was he about to start crying? "Fuck," he whispered to himself, smashing his fists against the lush grass underneath him. "Fuck, Zabini, get it together."

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to even his breathing and hold it together. His father. Levi Andershon Zabini, a man unfortunate enough to marry his mother when they had been young and silly and in their early twenties. Blaise had, many times, heard the story of their ill-fated relationship - that Levi had been the man that Hannah had really loved, loved unlike any other husband - or at least, that's what she'd say after every break up, looking through old love letters. Levi did something, although it was never made clear to Blaise exactly what, that had him stationed permanently in New Zealand. He had left before Hannah had even known she was pregnant, and didn't find out about Blaise until he was three or four years old. His visits had always been infrequent and cordial, his yearly birthday letters curt and unfatherly.

In truth, Blaise Zabini had never had a father of any sort. His mother's endless parade of masculine atrocities had tousled his hair and thrown balls to him, but had always disappeared in any moments of true seriousness. Levi was a vague figure in the distance, a phantom father by name only. Blaise had never harbored any ill feelings to him - if he could, he would have run away from his mother to New Zealand as well. No, he had never hated Levi or wished Levi pain, but he certainly had never loved Levi.

But with this, Blaise clenched his fist again, releasing the crumpled parchment onto the wet grass, all possibility was gone, all hope lost. He felt like an orphan, as if Levi's existence had provided him a far away solace that even though his mother was frequently a child, he had one adult, one true "parent" looking out there for him.

"Fucking twat," Blaise whispered into his hands, not sure if he was talking about the man who had died, or the boy who was near tears over it.

He knew none of his mates had realized he had gone yet, and even if they did, they'd suspect he was off getting into some incredible mischief. No, he couldn't go back to the party, at least not any time soon - not while he was close to tears and having trouble getting a full lungful of air. Lying in the grass outside of Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini tried to figure out what to do with himself. He sat up, already disgusted by the way grass was clinging to his wool blazer and dug into his pocket for a cigarette. He couldn't let Higgs see him this way, that was for certain. Adrian had a fantastic father - the kind of father that taught all the lads how to smoke cigars. Adrian was out of the question. Marcus wasn't one for any sort of conversation. Rorke…Blaise lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, unhappy with the earthy taste in the back of his throat from his coughing fit earlier. He reckoned he could talk to Rorke, but in their four years of friendship, they'd never had a moment of true breakdown. The closest they'd gotten was last spring when everything with Carolina had happened, but then, Blaise got to play the strong role. He got to be the one who roughed Rorke up and gave him a whiskey and told him to be a man. The thought of Rorke doing that to him - and over something he couldn't fully comprehend - made him sick to his stomach.

Blaise started to stand up. There was no going back, but there was no _not_ going back either. Overcome with a feeling of melancholy, he stubbed out his cigarette next to the parchment he had left lying on the ground. He had no intention of taking it with him or even writing his mother back. He had no intention of thinking of it again. He felt an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety wash over him and bubble up in his stomach. Would he be able to go back and act as though everything was alright? No, he had to talk to someone, or at least distract himself in some tactile way.

Macbeth.

Blaise was resolved. Abby Macbeth was pretty and sensitive and perfect. He had no intention of sharing all his deep dark secrets with her, especially not about this, but she was the kind of bird you could tell you were feeling all fucked up and she'd tend to your wounds and such. Blaise tried to brush as much wet grass off his blazer as possible and walked back towards the castle. Yes, Abby Macbeth was the perfect solution. She didn't know the lads well enough to know that him wanting to be with her instead of them was a gigantic red flag, and the lads would all think he was just trying to shag her. Maybe they'd kiss, softy and quietly, in one of the quiet corners of the Slytherin Common Room, and she'd admire him for being so strong and so in pain. Blaise would be perfectly damaged for her. And she would fix him, like a battered wind up toy of a beating heart.

As Blaise approached the room of requirement, he tried to shake the last vestiges of his episode outside off of him. He found the door with ease, flung open the door and saw the party still in full swing. Rorke and Carolina were tucked into a corner, talking earnestly. Daphne was dancing with Marcus, Zoe and Tracey bopping around drunkenly, swishing their skirts to the music and trying to attract some of the older Slytherin boys' attention. Kate Macbeth was stoically perched on the edge of the punch table, her sister nowhere in sight. Blaise made his way to her.

"'Ello, Kate."

She turned her head dreamily. "Hello, Blaise. How is your fifth year."

"s'Alright," he managed roughly. "Any idea where your sister's gone off to?"

Kate drained her cup. "Think she went to bed. I'm headed there myself." She turned to put the empty cup on the littered table and paused. "Blaise…are you…should we be worried about that?" She gestured to Carolina and Rorke in the corner.

Blaise noticed them for the first time. "I…uh…No way of knowing really. Kate, I - I have to find your sister. Pleasure."

Regret burned in his stomach as he made his way back to the Slytherin Common Room. Of course it was something worry about - Rorke and Carolina - of course he should have stayed and pretended to have something to talk to Rorke about (christ, he DID have something to talk to Rorke about), pried his best mate away from the hell he was falling into. But instead, Blaise ran away, his feet carrying him evenly all the way back to the common room.

Empty. Could it really be she'd gone to bed already? And was Blaise committed enough to his own fantasy of being strong that he'd find her anyway?

"Stop…" he heard a breathy whisper and whipped around. The common room was empty…the voice was coming from the stairway to the girl's dormitory. "I need to go to bed, really…" the voice persisted. Following it, Blaise glanced around the corner to see two shadowy figured pressed up against the wall. "I can't see a blasted thing."

"Don't go…not yet," responded the male voice. "Not yet.." Blaise knew the voice well. His heart seized inside his chest.

"I have to," the other voice whined. "I have -" the two shadowy figures kissed again. "Blast, I need a light and I need to go to bed."

"Lumos," Blaise said nonchalantly. The stairway lit up from the tip of his want at once, illuminating the desperate bodies of Abigail Macbeth and Terence Higgs. They both turned to look at him, Abby's face impossible to read and Terence's mouth twisting into a smile.

"Cheers." Blaise said, and promptly turned to go to bed.


End file.
